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In honor of today’s terrorfest, it’s time to delve into the archives for some unsettling photos from decades now past.

Enjoy (or reel in horror at) these shots from Narre Tod, Mein Spielgesell (Fool Death, My Playmate), a series of portraits of a love affair between a female model and a skeleton. The set is by eccentric photographer Franz Fiedler, 1921.

In reality, heartstrings are just a tad different than those imagined in Brontë’s Jane Eyre:

“Because, he said, “I sometimes have a queer feeling with regard to you – especially when you are near me, as now: it is as if I had a string somewhere under my left ribs, tightly and inextricably knotted to a similar string situated in the corresponding quarter of your little frame. And if that boisterous channel, and two hundred miles or so of land some broad between us, I am afraid that cord of communion will be snapt; and then I’ve a nervous notion I should take to bleeding inwardly. As for you, – you’d forget me.”

Although they’re not connected to another’s frame, these closeups show just how stunning our own heartstrings (tendons and blood vessels) can be. Especially when they’re working overtime to pump life & love all over the body.

Next project on the slates is a musical entitled The Pokemusical – which promises to be a ridiculously fun romp as 90’s nostalgia takes the stage.

Thrilled to begin telling this story to those that knew and loved the Pokemon craze/those that ask Polka-what?

Looks like we’re not the only ones who are fans of the mash-up. Pokemon Fashion blog PokeXFashion slams the world of high fashion into the slightly more animated one as pocket monsters hide surreptitiously behind models or grab the limelight instead.

New York City is renowned for its vibrancy, lightening-paced lifestyle, and constant flow of people on its streets. But its energy also surges into the subways below. One talented photo-blogger took the difficult lighting and less than prime conditions and captured the underbelly of the city over the course of a few years with a photo a day, rendering it beautiful through his lens.

Once a hotspot of summer freedom, today Coney Island serves as a harsh reminder of how easily remnants of a idealized Americana can fade.

And while off-seasons are typically rough for many summer locales, Coney Island may have seen its last golden summer. As of January 2011, many well-known businesses closed their doors, restaurants served their last drinks and faced eviction while demolition crews waited eagerly on the horizon.

As photographer Nathan Kensinger brilliant captures in his series on the forgotten beach town, perhaps Coney’s best remaining symbol of its colorful past is the Playland Arcade.

Playland of the Mind

Shoot

“Built in 1935, it evolved from a Silver’s Penny Arcade and remained open year-round until 1981. The arcade once faced the legendary Thunderbolt roller coaster, which was famed for the 1895 hotel located beneath its tracks. The Thunderbolt and the Kensington Hotel were torn down in November 2000, during another off season “surprise attack,” demolished by the city to make way for “waterfront development plans for a new, more profitable Coney Island.”

Disco Ball

Dark Murals

“Today, the Playland Arcade faces a broad empty field and has been abandoned for many years. Inside the arcade, an army of raccoons and cats has taken over. If not for the freezing winter weather, the stench of their urine would be overwhelming. Hundreds of empty cat food containers litter the floor. Large sections of ceiling have come down, allowing rain and snow to rot the interior. Collapsing walls are propped up by police barricades. Trees grow in the squalor.”

Cars have seemingly always been a staple in good ol’ U.S. of A. – lynchpins of the American psyche and the ultimate symbols of power, freedom and self-expression. And long before the dawn of the Mad Men era, woman were used as a way to sell them. Almost as common as the hood ornament adorning most of the classic models, the image of the female lounging on her car of choice is one that’s deeply entrenched in our culture. A woman sitting on, next-to, or even near a car became synonymous with sexuality, even when the photos were tame. The woman exercises her choice when she selects a car, just as she does when she picks out a man. Advertisers will market a car as “fast”, “exhilarating”, and “the ride of a lifetime,” and our minds need only hop a short distance to see that this language could apply to either a mate or a horsepower vehicle of choice.

Melbourne easily earns the title of one of the hippest little cities I’ve ever had the pleasure of visiting. Artsy, intellectual, sprawling, and fast-paced, this place is truly world-class. A pal of mine moved to Australia earlier this year, and she has since made Melbourne her home.

We ran all around trying to jam pack the “true Australian experience” into a few days and she was an absolutely phenomenal host. We fed wallabies, caught some awesome films at the St. Kilda Film Festival, watched the tiny blue penguins (600 of them!) come in at dusk on Phillip Island, took in some contemporary galleries, noshed on scones while discussing countries’ “Gross National Coolness” at the Next Wave Festival, and got entirely too little sleep. But oh, it was worth it.

And because photos sometimes tell the story better than words can, I give you the full spectrum of Melbourne – in technicolor!